A Lorn Child's Curse
by Flailingkittylover
Summary: Words can't be the only tool in helping the seeds of madness bloom, that is a fact an intelligent schemer like Medusa is all too aware of. But her child must learn, and actions may speak louder than her speeches of promise.


**I know this isn't an expected update of my other story, but I needed to scoop this idea out after listening to a recent song. That update should come in about another two weeks, so I appreciate your patience in waiting for me.**

**And although I view Crona as a male, I wanted to try out a challenge and make Crona a nonbinary here just to change things up.**

**This story is inspired by the song "The Curse of the Sad Mummy" by League of Legends Music.**

* * *

An arrow polished fingernail slowly trails across a book's page, Medusa's voice reading aloud with the sentence's lead. The snake witch lectures from an advanced anatomy book, but for the sake of the developing mind sitting before her, she must pain-stackingly dumb-down the complex words the science text teaches.

"Now," Medusa says. "To review what we have gone over, repeat to me the organs to target while in battle. And this time, tell me where they are protected in the human body."

She waits for a second, but the response that should immediately meet her ears is not received.

There is only silence.

Annoyance lowers her eyelids and the witch's icy snake-slits roll up from her book to the dazed child who stares blankly at their bed with a side-glance. Crona's eyes are heavy and mouth is slightly agape, the tell-tale look that a child is _not_ listening.

Medusa's eyes narrow.

This five-year old should know better than to run off in their daydreams by now.

"Crona," Her voice is composed and light, but she knows her creation can sense the lace of threat and command sewn within it. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Crona's breath shortens and ice-blue eyes widen, darting to hers. A soft voice which stutters and stumbles over their words tries to apologize, saying they really _were_ listening in attempt to make amends, but the worried child only manages to deepen Medusa's shame in raising something so passively pathetic.

"Let's try this again." Medusa continues, interrupting Crona's apologies. "Tell me the organs to target in battle. And tell me where they reside within the body."

Much to her surprise, the child responds quickly, as if they rehearsed and reviewed the answers in their spare time just to please her. Crona even went on to name the different methods used to breach the organic barriers in order to cripple and maim targets, hoping added information would put them in a more intelligent light.

Oh how _amusing _it was to see how far this child would go for her approval.

"Very good, Crona." Medusa praises. "And here I thought you weren't studying after your lessons. You've surprised me."

The growing cocoon of fake affection and applaud she weaves makes Crona dare to _smile_, eyes shining like stars, and Medusa can't help but sneer as she turns her back.

Children are such _gullible_ creatures.

"We will stop the lesson here." Medusa concludes. "It's time for bed. Your mission starts early tomorrow."

The witch closes the book and prepares to leave with Crona moving quickly behind her, clothes rustling hastily to get ready for bed. She stops collecting her materials, listening to Crona move, and curiosity makes her nicked eyebrow rise.

Never has Crona been excited to sleep before a mission, the weakling dreads the silent night too fiercely. She is normally implored to continue lecturing by Crona lest they be forced to face the nightmares stored in their brain, waiting to be released during sleep.

She remembers Crona's face and wonders something.

"Crona," She calls." The child stops moving and Medusa glances over her shoulder, yellow eyes cold and hollow. "What are you hiding underneath your mattress?"

Crona freezes. Again, frightened words clumsily trip over the other in effort to offer an explanation: that they are merely excited for their mission tomorrow and they are tired. But Medusa's emotionless-and to Crona's knowledge, all _knowing_-eyes of indifference bore into theirs, uncaring of explaining reasons which waste her time. She only cares for what is the product of the obvious fact.

Her spawn trembles and shoulders slump with their lowered head, defeated. Crona moves to the bed, small hands moving beneath the mattress to pull out what hides beneath and presents the contraband to their creator.

Medusa takes the book from Crona, interested eyes scanning and reading the fading title of _Matilda _typed across its cover. She feels in its weight how uncomfortably short it is, lacking in any _real_ sort of knowledge like her own books, and she remembers this story is nothing but a fictional tale for children.

"Where did you get this?" The witch questions. "I don't recall putting this in your curriculum."

Thin shoulders hunch and Crona shakily murmurs, "I-I…I um, I-I found it. It w-was…" They pause and make a hard gulp. "I-It was in the b-backpack from the girl from last week. The o-one I…"

Crona can't seem to finish and a mix of humor and disgust fills Medusa's stomach. So much she has taught them about the folly of emotions, yet Crona still cannot speak of or not feel guilty about the people they have murdered.

But curiosity overrides Medusa's disgust, her scientific nature begging to explore this further.

"Tell me, Crona."She lowers herself to her child's height, voice careful and soft to help in her coaxing. "Why does a book of fiction interest you so much more than my teachings? Never have you been so excited for my lessons, or to read from my books, yet your eyes light up when you sneak off to read a deceptive piece of writing. Are you not appreciative of what I provide?"

Crona's eyes enlarge with horror and violently shake their head. "N-N-No! I-It's n-nothing like that at all! I-It…I-I…"

Medusa enacts her animal totem's role and waits patiently, interrogative eyes zeroed in on Crona.

"I-I just…the other books are so heavy and wordy and I-I can't follow them very well…I'm j-just not smart enough to. B-But this one…i-it was easier to read and it was funny and I…I-I liked it."

"_Why_ did you like it, Crona? What interests you so much about the story?"

A pause sweeps between them and the tips of Crona's fingers nervously tap together. "I-I liked it because…b-because even though Matilda h-had a mean brother and parents, e-even though she wasn't treated very nicely and was different, s-she still found friends. I-I didn't know that could happen in those school places. I a-always thought they were scary and full of strangers when I pass by them." Crona's voice suddenly becomes thick and Medusa's brows lower. "She even…M-Matilda even met a nice teacher while she went to school. Someone who h-helped her and accepted her even though she had a weird ability no one else has. She…the teacher even_ adopted_ Matilda when her parents had to run away, a-and she was…_happy_. Even after e-everything that happened she was still able to be happy. A-And it… i-it made me wonder…"

Crona cuts off, their breathing ragged, and Medusa smirks inwardly.

Oh, this is _precious_.

"And it made you wonder if what happened to this Matilda could happen to you too." Medusa finishes, voice dual in solemnity and mocking. "Interesting. I suppose you are an ungrateful child after all. I provide so much and this is how I'm treated, wanting to be replaced and left behind. How disappointing."

Her creation squeaks and frantically tries to clear up their words, sounding closer to breaking out into tears, but Medusa ignores them. She's far too interested in another idea her brilliant mind has concocted.

Medusa lifts a hand to chillingly run it through Crona's hair, making them shiver and whimper, arms kept to their chest. "But I know something you may want to know, Crona. What if I told you this _could_ happen? That even someone as worthless as you can have a slim chance at this 'happy ending'." Crona looks at her doubtfully but Medusa continues. "Even scientists like me know this world is full of many opportunities and even the most miniscule of chances has a probability to occur." Her cold hand stops to settle over Crona's jawbone. "And if I allowed you to have a chance to venture out and find out more about this little bane of yours, would you?"

Doubt clouds shocked cerulean, but children bear the curse of naiveté and hope, something which manages to shine through the uncertain storm raging inside Crona's eyes. Their nod is weak, but their glossy eyes almost _shine_.

The witch rises from the ground and looks down at her child. "But remember this, Crona. This journey is yours alone to take. I will not come with you but I will guide you if you stray off course. Consider this your new mission: find these friends you seek, prove to me the small percentage does and can exist for you. Understood?"

What looks like excitement and fear shakes Crona's body and widens their eyes, but they nod nonetheless, rushing off to scramble into bed and hasten the clock for the coming of morning.

The witch leaves her child's room to sleep, smiling sickly as she departs.

Experiments truly are a great joy in her life.

* * *

Resting atop the lab counter sits an unblemished crystal ball, Medusa examining her boiling test tubes beside it. Only every now and again does she check on the relayed image of her fatigued, dirty child trudging through yet another city.

A sneer curls the side of her mouth.

It would be an understatement to say it was entertaining to watch Crona tire themselves with their trek. Not having a broomstick to travel for you must be a horrible disadvantage, as Crona's feet often trip over the other, making them fall to the dirty ground when they are too tired to walk. Medusa chuckles at the image of a suffering Crona moving through crowded cities, empty streets, and dry grasslands to find their goal which may hide in another place.

But Crona's determination is surprising. Even after two months, she is still uncertain if Crona's desire to fight through cold and hunger is to please _her_ or to help fill the hollow cavity which aches in their heart. Medusa could be taken as impressed, but disappointment is the clearer emotion, frowning that Crona did not even _try_ this hard for their own mother.

However, like all things foreign and misunderstood, the humans fail to associate with a strange, gaunt child who roams the city streets. They avoid and ignore Crona when the child attempts to approach or finally summons the courage to speak, just as she would.

Tired of watching Crona sit on a bench, whimpering about how fellow children called them "creepy" and to "leave them alone", Medusa prepares another test-tube. Her child complains the streets are cold and begins to cry, and after years of experience, the witch easily blocks the sounds of Crona's crying when they begin to sob.

Now the only thing she wonders is when Crona will finally shut _up_.

"Hi there."

Medusa stops, eyes snapping to her magic tool. She spots a small girl with braids stand in front of a crying Crona. They look at her with surprise, almost unsettled by the friendly tone in the girl's voice, and Medusa settles her test tube back in its rack, observing the encounter.

"Why are you sitting here alone?" She inquires. "It's cold out here."

Crona wipes their face, body curling in on themselves. They can only stare.

The girl gives Crona an odd look, tilting her head. "I've been seeing you around the city lately and I've never noticed anyone with you. Are you lost?"

Crona doesn't answer.

"Well…can you _talk_?"

The pale five-year old is still hesitant to respond to the girl, but answers with a nod of their head.

"Good!" The girl pipes up. "Because there's a question I've been wanting to ask you…why is your hair _pink_?"

Crona groans and Medusa closes her eyes in annoyance. Soon the barrage of questions and frightened responses from Crona becomes much too boring for the witch to tolerate. Such a useless discussion of a child's interests and looks is something only caring mothers can gush over.

Interest deafens the witch's ears as she tends to her work, the children's conversation and movements carrying on as they travel through the streets. Only until the words "playground", "meet", and "mother" enters Medusa's ears is when the pair finally catches her attention again.

Amber eyes move to her crystal ball, settling on the image of a smiling woman with the small girl next to her and a shaking Crona. It is then Medusa sees where the girl gets her prodding traits from, as her stout mother is as irritatingly determined to find out Crona's name as her daughter is.

"Come on." The girl encourages. She lightly pushes on Crona's shoulders, making them jolt. "It's just a name, silly."

Crona grips their slender arm, dark eyes shying away.

"Come now." The mother speaks. "Not _all_ parents are mean as everyone makes them out to be. I'm not going to bite Daisy's new friend."

Crona looks surprised. At first, Medusa concludes they simply do not understand the woman's phrase, but the growing twinkle in their eyes leads her to another answer.

That woman said friend.

"I-It's…"Crona quietly starts. "M-My name is…Crona."

"Crona." The mother repeats, putting a finger to her chin. "I can't recall hearing that name before. Interesting. Did your parents have any sort of inspiration for it? Or did your mother call dibs on naming you?"

Crona freezes at Medusa's mention and the witch smirks.

_Go ahead, Crona, tell them _why_ I named you so._

"I'm um…I'm not sure." Crona sheepishly replies. "She d-didn't tell me."

The girl blinks curiously. "But there's always a reason why parents give us certain names. Like, I'm named after a flower for cheerfulness so there _has_ to be something for you."

The girl's mother lightly frowns as Crona begins to shake and Medusa joins her as her child struggles to speak. Their mouth opens and closes, shoulders hunched, _trying_ to let out their words.

But a flying sandwich that slaps onto Crona's face halts their efforts, earning a startled cry from them instead.

"There they are!" A small boy points. "Remember that weirdo I mentioned last week, you guys? The one who was walking around, asking us to be their friend? Well there's the midget stalker!"

"Why are they wearing a _dress_?"A small girl questions. "Aren't they a boy?"

"A boy with _pink hair_?" Another boy asks incredulously. "I don't think so. They look too girly and thin to be a boy."

Medusa softly snickers at the comments, but the little girl and her mother are not as amused as her. A breath of amusement leaves the witch, watching Crona's protector stand guard while her mother wipes jelly from the sandwich off their face.

"Throwing things at someone is _not_ appropriate behavior." The mother harshly scolds. "You children should know better than to treat someone like this, especially if they just look different than you. _Apologize_ to this child."

"Not to someone who looks like _that_." Another boy fights back.

Medusa watches as Crona trembles on the spot, the little girl and her mother actively looking for an apology. The witch's curling sneer wrinkles her skin, spotting another boy sneak behind Crona, picking up an apple from their lunch to huck it at the unsuspecting child's back.

Crona then winces, face twisted into a grimace as the small form of Ragnorak rips out from their back, angrily swatting the apple away.

"You little _coward_!" Ragnorak screeches." Aiming for our damn _back_. Why don't you come over here and take us on like a_ real_ man, huh? Then we can show you what we can _really_ do!"

_That _is when chaos ensues.

Parents and children scream, much to Crona's growing horror, his friend's mother included. The woman's eyes enlarge, shrieking as she grabs her surprised daughter. She tells Crona to _stay away _and the frightened child tries to explain, that Ragnorak is not as mean as he looks, but the demon isn't inclined to agree.

"I don't _care_ if that brat or this fatty is scared of us." The demon snarls. "She and her pest are nothing but hypocrites if you ask me, preaching about being nice to someone whose different, then changing their minds just when things turn weird. _Fuck them_. So why don't you go preach your bull somewhere else you lard-ass, huh?!"

Hoping to silence their weapon, Crona attempts to shush Ragnorak, but he ignores his meister, stretching his odd face while grinning to the mother, telling them to _go away_. Her daughter's and the mother's scream rip through the air, sprinting away from the playground to flee. And before Crona can hope to retrieve the new friend they have made, a barrage of food pelts them before a word can escape, children yelling for the strange pink-haired child to leave their playground.

An unemotional glance is all Medusa produces. It was foolish for Crona to not predict his own efforts could bite back at them. Parents can be cruel and discriminate, but their children can be even crueler.

While the girl is taken away and Crona's body is pelted by yelling kids, Medusa doesn't need Soul Perception to know that corrupting shadows are seeping into their soul and mind. The destruction of hope is always a catastrophic mess. And like a joker who has been splattered with pies, the children laugh pleasantly, finding Crona's messy form funny. Ragnorak only swipes away and bites at flying items, roaring they're wasting precious food and they don't have the guts to see what Crona can _really_ do when pushed far enough.

But Crona begins to panic, eyes darting for an escape outside the ring of children that surrounds them, and the snake witch closes her eyes knowingly when her child realizes there is no where to flee.

"L-Lady Medusa." Crona whimpers. "P-Please, I-I don't…"

Medusa's eyes remain closed, choosing to ignore them and allow humiliation to settle further.

"I…I can't. I-I don't like this. I d-don't want to do this anymore. I-I… I can't _deal_ w-with this! I n-need _help_."

Predatorial eye-slits glimmer and a smile pulls wide on Medusa's face, sitting back in her seat.

About time.

"You've left me with no choice, Crona." Medusa softly croons. "You always have to make things so _difficult_ for me, so all that is left to use is the hard way; the only way you'll finally learn."

Crona shivers, shaking like a wet animal in the cold. "_P-Please_…I-"

"I try to protect you, try to give you the tools you need to survive and _win, _yet still you don't pay attention and think something like _friends_ is what you can achieve if sought out and focused on hard enough." Medusa's voice turns icy and low. "But this lesson will let you finally see that _this_ is what waits for you in this life without me, Crona. If you think leaving me and finding people who care for you exist out there, there are _none_. Friends are a figment belonging only in fiction and your pitiful imagination. In the real world, only you can care for yourself."

A sorrowful moan escapes Crona. "B-But…b-but Matilda…"

"That girl is _not real_. Her story is a lie and experiences non-existent. Only a fool could read a book like that and think finding a family outside your own is possible. So what does that make you?"

Crona shrinks in on themselves, shivering, laughter resounding all around them.

"This is my pledge to you, Crona." Medusa says. "And what you're experiencing now will convince you to believe me when I say: _no-one_ will befriend you. And to those who try, they will leave you to suffer or betray you in the end. Without me, you are alone until you perish." The witch's sneer tugs higher, sensing the cracking in Crona's psyche, eyes glazed with tears. She hovers a hand over her crystal ball, preparing a spell she has been practicing to amplify madness. "But even after hearing your hurtful desire to find a new mother, after watching you try to find someone else, _I'm_ still here, Crona. I've guided you to civilization for your journey to find these cretins, food when you're hungry, and proper shelter when no one would take you into their home. _I've_ still looked after and cared for you, my _sweet child_."

The motherly lilt added to her last words finally fractures Crona's mentality and Medusa takes the chance for her spell to slither and launch out, embedding itself into it's target's head. Ice-blue eyes widen upon contact, a grin wobbling on pale lips, mind consumed with _her _influence.

"Now, my dear. Let's show these creatures what happens to those who dare laugh at us, shall we?"

Ragnorak warps and evolves into a sword, an ear-shattering duet of screams shaking the Earth and bones of those within the playground. Cracks rift the ground and Crona's maddening power-up surges through their body, fueling their lunge to swipe, uppercut, and blast away their victims.

Medusa watches with amusement at the bloodcurdling screams, parents running to protect children, but they soon join the piles of sliced bodies laying on the floor. The massacre is done in mere _minutes_, and the sounds of agony soon devolve into silence.

When Crona is finished, the desolation is almost _entrancing _to Medusa. Blue souls of innocents light the floor like candles and blood acts as an elegant carpet for the life source to hover over.

Slowly, Crona comes to, panting, panicked eyes roving over the destruction they caused. A choked sound catches in their throat, eyes pained, and bloodied hands trembling as the youth glances down at them.

The sight is enough to make Crona vomit and grab a fistful of their hair from grief.

"And this is what happens when you hope and strive for a fictional happy ending." Medusa scolds. "Consider it not a curse, but an advantage that you are tied to me. No one else can fill my shoes. Without me to tell you right from wrong, you wouldn't have even _realized_ that your selfish wants blinded you from the truth." She pauses and chuckles when Crona's sobs morph into chest-hitching giggles, blue eyes wide and tears pouring down their cheeks. "But you see now and that's what matters. Now clean up your mess. Once Ragnorak finishes feeding, we'll go find that little girl and her mother."

The witch's eyes move to settle on the book of _Matilda_ kept on the counter. She takes it and holds it over the Bunsen burner's flame. The book slowly chars and dies into ash, like Crona's sanity will soon become as Ragnorak's high-pitched shriek calls for the innocent souls around them. And to this whole scenario, Medusa can't help but _smile_ triumphantly while her thoughts roam.

_Remember this lesson until your end, Crona: I am your only bond. Your conception was controlled, your growth will be under only my eye, and that will _never _change._

* * *

_For many years, young Amumu traveled through the lands,_

_Determined to make friends if only they would understand,_

_But even when Amumu stood upon the ledge of home,_

_His hope would disappoint him, and he would remain alone._

_But then the curse began to whisper in his ear,_

_And would confirm what was Amumu's biggest fear,_

_It pledged that never shall someone become his friend,_

_It pledged that he shall be alone until his end._


End file.
